


Thirty One and Your Work's Not Done

by mistyzeo



Series: Birthdays in the Winchester Tradition [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_30snapshots, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy birthday Dean!  I got you this blowjob.  (prompt: inhale)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty One and Your Work's Not Done

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [И всё такое](https://archiveofourown.org/works/278829) by [Фиолетовая Лиса (purple_fox)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_fox/pseuds/%D0%A4%D0%B8%D0%BE%D0%BB%D0%B5%D1%82%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%B0%D1%8F%20%D0%9B%D0%B8%D1%81%D0%B0)



Sam didn't think he would like sucking Dean off quite as much as he does, but he really fucking likes it. He likes it because Dean likes it, not because he enjoys having cock stuffed so far down his throat he can barely breathe, but he kind of likes that too. No, he likes sucking Dean because Dean goes fucking nuts for it. Dean likes Sam's mouth on his dick almost more than he likes fucking-- whether that's fucking Sam, or Sam fucking him, or fucking girls, or whatever. Not that Dean does that a whole lot anymore.

Dean sort of pretends not to like it to much, and Sam isn't exactly sure why. Maybe it's because he thinks he should be fucking anything that walks, and for whatever reason that does not include his little brother's face, but when Sam gets his lips around Dean's cock, Dean loses his fucking mind. Sam almost doesn't want to do it too often, in case Dean will stop liking it so goddamn much, but it never gets any less exciting.

And that's more or less why Sam is where he is right now, laid out over his brother's legs, holding his hips down to the bed, and sucking him. He's been at it for almost half an hour, and Dean is out of his head. He's shaking and moaning and curling and uncurling his hands in Sam's hair. He's thrusting his hips up against Sam's hands, and digging his heels into the messed-up sheets, and sweating and panting.

Sam's mouth hurts, and his jaw hurts, and his tongue feels numb, and his throat is going to be raw for days, but it's worth it. Dean is thick and hard in his mouth, and Sam's lips and chin are sticky with spit and pre-come, and his body has gone into that state where it thinks he's choking to death, so his throat is all slippery, and it makes the slide of the head of Dean's cock to the back of his throat easy and smooth. Dean wails above him, cockhead pulsing in Sam's mouth as Sam sucks him slow and steady. He has one hand loose around Dean's balls, rolling them between his fingers, and the other splayed on Dean's belly, framing his cock, rubbing in the spit-and-come-soaked mess of his pubes. He can't suck in enough air around Dean's dick, and he's tearing up, but Dean is saying his name over and over, like a prayer, barely stopping to inhale.

Dean's hips jerk, and his cock slams into the back of Sam's throat. Sam pulls off abruptly, coughing, and Dean blinks open lust-blown eyes, trying to look apologetic.

"Sam," he croaks, "sorry, baby, please."

Sam shakes his head and grins. "It's fine, Dean. Seriously."

"Don't stop," Dean whispers, pushing on his head and canting his hips so the head of his cock catches on Sam's lower lip. Sam slides his tongue out and licks it, teasing, and pre-come spills from the slit. Dean whimpers, and Sam sucks the head into his mouth. He rubs his tongue over the bundle of nerves under the head, and Dean spasms. His knees spread wider, and Sam shifts so he can settle between them, finally, getting some friction on his rock-hard dick. He's still wearing his boxers, god knows why, and the wet spot at the head of his cock is growing steadily as he sucks Dean.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck," Dean mutters, "Sammy, fuck, suck me, yeah. Oh god, baby, you're so fucking good. Please, babe, Sammy, Jesus, yes!"

Sam swallows him to the base, throat fluttering, sticking out his tongue to lick the base of Dean's cock. It opens up his throat, and Dean's cock slips past his gag reflex, all the fucking way in. Sam has his nose pressed into Dean's flat abs, and he can't see Dean, but he runs his hands up Dean's body, feeling the arch of his back, the tightness of his biceps and shoulders, the way his head is thrown back, twisted to the side, and his mouth open.

Sam gets a finger into Dean's mouth, and Dean immediately closes down on it, sucking it into his mouth, and Sam pulls back from his dick to almost let him go. Dean groans and Sam goes down again, fucking Dean's cock into his mouth.

Now that his hips are free, Dean automatically starts rolling them, up into Sam's mouth, shoving his cock deeper, and back out again, and deep, and out. Sam almost chokes again, but Dean eases up for a second as the shudder goes through him. Sam pulls his finger out of Dean's mouth and shifts again, rising up to curl his knees under him and spread his hands wide on either side of Dean's hips on the bed.

He's still letting Dean fuck his mouth, and he bobs his head down in time. Dean's going to come soon. Good thing, too, because Sam is so hard he thinks he might burst. Sucking Dean, listening to Dean babble and moan and run his mouth, watching the way Dean's eyes go all hazy and his chest flushes-- it all gets Sam so hot, so fucking hot, knowing he's doing this to Dean, giving Dean what he wants, letting Dean take what he needs. He's going to come when Dean does, feels his hips jerking in the air, thrusting against nothing, rubbing his cock between his thighs and his stomach. He's going to come in his boxers from sucking Dean off, and Dean is going to make fun of him for it, and Sam loves every second of it.

Dean pulls his hair and forces his face down harder, moaning and crying out and apologizing at the same time, apologizing for hurting Sam, and loving the way his mouth feels anyway. Sam closes his lips and sucks hard, curls his hand around the base of Dean's dick so it can't hit the back of his throat again, twisting sharply and rubbing under his balls at the same time, and he feels them draw tight and firm against his knuckles.

"Fuck," Dean hisses, "your fucking mouth, god, I love you so fucking much, fuck, Sam!" He throws back his head and howls, and Sam feels him thicken, harden impossibly in his mouth, and then he's flooded with the taste of Dean's come, thick and sticky and hot in his mouth, down his throat, on his lips. He can't swallow fast enough, and he chokes on it, and Dean groans loud as he comes, endlessly, shoving his cock into Sam's mouth over and over.

The muscles in Dean's stomach are convulsing as he thrusts, and Sam's back bows and he squeezes his eyes shut, orgasm rushing on him like a tidal wave. He grabs Dean's thighs, something to hold onto, and comes hard in his shorts, hot and wet over his thighs. He fucks the air as Dean fucks his mouth, and when he moans, Dean's come slides out of his mouth, down Dean's cock, a mess.

He lets Dean's cock slip out of his mouth and presses his forehead to the dip of Dean's hip as he rides out the tail end of his orgasm, shuddering and gasping. Dean's hands are gentle in his hair, stroking, pushing it back from his face. He pants for air, and he feels his breathing slow gradually to the rhythm of Dean's. Dean pulls, lets go of his hair to grip his shoulders and pull him up his body. Sam sprawls beside Dean, eyes closing, and Dean turns only his head to kiss him. Sam's lips are numb and stupid, but Dean licks into his mouth, licking come off his lips and chin, curling his arm up and around Sam's head to hold him while he tastes himself on Sam's tongue.

"Fuck," Sam finally says, sighing, and Dean is looking at him from half-lidded eyes. Dean smiles, lazy, runs his fingers through Sam's hair, damp with sweat. Sam touches his lips with his fingertips, blinking, and Dean grins.

"Thanks," he says.

"It's your birthday," Sam murmurs, "I have to be nice to you, and stuff."

Dean rolls onto his side and gathers Sam in his arms, pushing and tugging and manhandling until he has Sam in prime baby spoon position, and presses his face to the back of Sam's neck. He shoves Sam's shorts off with his fingers and throws them on the floor. Sam sighs again, fumbling up to turn off the light. Dean's arm is tight around his waist, his hips snug up against Sam's bare ass, and he's still sticky and kind of gross down there, but Sam just melts into the embrace.

"And stuff," Dean agrees.


End file.
